Never Really Gained To Lose
by hayleyrebecca
Summary: One-Shot... This is an interesting, potentially (though I really pray not) twisted thing... Didn't know what rating so went for M to cover myself. But I hope you enjoy!


**So yeah, this is the result of my day... A depressing One-shot that may not be depressing.**

**This might be a little bit sad and it might seem a little bit twisted with potentially 4 deaths, however you wish to read it but I tried desperately not to be! Sorry for errors! Hope its ok!**

He was sat alone in the clinical room; everything was white. It was the last place he wanted to be, or ever imagined he would be today.

He should be in the bright colours of maternity, he had expected to be in post-natal care, surrounded by many other smiling faces, that would match his own, and the little cries all the new lives gave out, to someone who was in the same position as he should be, would echo around and the atmosphere would be bright. Today would be the start of something new, the most wild and exciting adventure of his life.

But now he was facing something new, except it wasn't an adventure for the good, it was an adventure for survival, an adventure to try to carry on minute by minute, hour by hour. There should be balloons and flowers, cards and food, teddy bears and gifts all around him, given caringly by the many friends who should have come to visit, had a reason to visit, and spoke to him of the pride he felt and how adorable his children were.

They should speak about the life he had created, the life he was supposed to forever protect, the life he would love for eternity, even after he was gone. And that's how it should have been, after _he _was gone. He should have been gone first, 30, 40 years before, but that is not what was to be, that was not what was written in his pre-scripted life.

There should be two small cots, ugly, plastic, uncomfortable cots, but they should be there. There should be two wriggling but content bundles, bundles of hope, joy, bundles with a bright positive future. One should be wrapped in pink, the other in blue and these should lie in these cots. There should be these two sleeping, peaceful bundles, one each side of their mother, who should be there too. She could be smiling at her new angels, or smiling at him, her hands in his, as he sat on a chair as close to the bed and her as he could physically find possible. Or perhaps she could be sleeping, resting peacefully after the torturous pain which had racked her body for the many hours before; that should not seem worthless and worth everything; every second of pain should be unregretful.

But it wasn't. They weren't. And he wasn't there now.

Instead he was in this room. The penultimate resting place, the place before the heaven which lied above. It was in this room he was familiar, but only ever for what he knew was coming on a professional basis. He knew the decision he would have to authorise. He knew what he would have to do to one of those he held as most precious. It was in this room his life had ended, as many had before; the room where his hopes and dreams of the future that he may be able to piece together with her, was shattered. Shattered into a thousand shards of misery; a thousand shards all nailed into his heart.

He couldn't bring himself to move. He couldn't bring himself to speak, to cry, to flitch. He couldn't bring himself to leave. He had said he never would, and now his decisions were no longer his. He had been sat in this room firstly with his children, his son and his daughter, he pride and his joy. He had only met them momentarily; he had never seen the eyes of his son. He had never heard him cry or seen his daughter smile. They had never uttered the words 'Dada' or 'Mumum' or 'No' very stubbornly when they reached the age of cheekiness.

And he is sure he would have hated it at the time, but now hearing them say those words is the only thing he wants close to how much he wishes to have them all back.

But they were never really his to lose.

He had never gained them to lose them.

But he had gained more and lost more than is imaginable.

But his horror didn't end.

His son had been born first, well, dragged from the safe confines of his mother, his beautiful mother, unwillingly and unprepared. His father had been desperate to see him, and his sister, and although they were 6 weeks premature there was confidence that he held, that his children would fight, they had more fight in them than the world's armies and nothing would knock them.

But there was no fight from his son, no sound, no scream, no cry. Not even a sniff or a whimper. No attempt to move. His son had been still, still and quiet and was rushed from the room in an attempt to get his formed lungs working; that were currently not serving their purpose. Lungs that would never serve a purpose. But he had not really realised how this would end, again he had seen this many times before and everything was always ok. But sometimes it went wrong. But it couldn't happen to him. He couldn't let himself think it might happen to him.

So it would all alright.

He had not been able to follow, he has to wait to welcome his daughter, welcome her with open arms. He was weak and she was strong, so any daughter of hers would keep up his hope. Because her daughter would survive; he had no doubt.

He couldn't have any doubt.

And she had cried a little, a sound which wretched his heart, but it had been a whimper and things were wrong, things were wrong here too. Once again a team ran, ran away with his daughter, to follow his son, his sister was following her brother to the same fate.

Kissing her forehead, he left her, he hadn't even thought she would need him to stay, that hadn't ever crossed his mind. He was so preoccupied he had forgotten he told her he would never leave. He had promised. But now that promise had been broken. And broken promises never end happily.

Running through the corridors he was desperate to find his children. His children would be alive and well. And he would have his perfect family. Repeating the words "It will all be ok," over and over in his head to himself, he carried on. He knew his way around here like the back of his hand, he had walked every corridor, every stair well, used every door only a few months before when he had been desperate to find the girl he loved; when he thought that he had lost her last time. And now it was like it was before. Running through the corridors, looking for his girl. His little baby girl. And his son. He had not yet given up hope on him either.

When he found them, they would be well. And she would come round from the operation and be well. There would be smiles and laughter and happiness every day and that would never, ever leave. And he loved the idea of it. And as he ran his perfect came into his head.

The little house, his children running free, being chased by two Labradors and him walking hand in hand with his wife, their mother, slowly behind them under the pink and white blossom trees. She would wear a floaty summer dress, and in her hair would be a flower; one that he had picked and given to her. There would be little blossom petals throughout her waves and as her hair flew naturally she would look gorgeous. But what she looked like wasn't the biggest thing in this mind, for she always had looked beautiful. It was the smiles they both wore, and would always wear.

But his perfect ended short.

His life ended early.

He was met by his best friend. And for once this was a bombshell.

She looked at him with great sympathy, pity and it was evident that she was hopelessly trying to prevent herself from bursting into tears.

Telling him of how his son was still-born and had never really lived, tears began to slip down her face. But he simply stood there, stunned. No blinking, breathing, tears. No emotion or movement. And then she spoke of his daughter who fought. He noticed the use of the word 'fought' instantly. Not fighting. Fought. Past tense. It was over. Her first and last battle had ended so abruptly also. It had ended that same way, same place, and same time. She had followed her brother away from him. It was like they both knew the father they had and he, for the first time, began to doubt his ability to be a good parent. He began to believe it was his fault they were gone and it was because of the way he was they ran away. He had lost everything, but he had been stupid and a fool and it was his own entire fault.

As he remembered this, playing it repeatedly in his head he constantly thought about how he had lost so much but now he was here, in this room, and he had the lost the final straw.

Brain damage. The slow beep of the ventilation machine. Brain damage. That's what they though. What they were sure on. Though they couldn't be certain. The beeping echoed around in the silence. He wasn't ready to say goodbye. He wouldn't ever be ready to say goodbye. The thought of her, the woman he loved, would always love; the one who was so strong and determined. She couldn't be in this way. He couldn't be left on his own. He couldn't have lost everything. It was an evil twist of fate.

There had been complications after he had left. He had told her he would never leave.

She had stopped breathing and the lack of oxygen to her brain and the severe loss of blood from the removal of her children had wounded her. He had told her he would never leave.

And they fought for her, brought her back, got her breathing once more, but it was too late. He had told her he would never leave.

She was just a shell, just some tissue in a shell. Empty. No personality. No emotion. No life. Quite simply her body was like the life he had left; the bricks and mortar of his flat and very little more. But he told her he would never leave.

She was no longer what he knew. No longer what anyone knew. No longer weak or strong, strong willed or sarcastic. No longer consultant or ice queen, no longer lover or friend. No longer his Jac or anyone's Jac. But he had told her he would never leave.

And he had.

He hadn't even thought that she might need him; he had just run after his children. And he had let her down. And it was his fault that she was gone. If he had have stayed she would haven't been on her own, she wouldn't have felt so alone.

She would have fought more to live, fought to carry on, and he wouldn't have lost her. Her death was his fault. She felt like she had nothing to live for. She would have felt deep down her children were gone. Mothers and children have this unbreakable bond. And she would have felt alone and worthless. Not knowing how he felt. Not knowing what he wanted. She would have had nothing to live for. Why live a life on her own when she could give up after losing everything she had ever wanted in a cruel twist by the Gods.

If he had have just once told her that he loved her, she would have known and she would have fought. She would still be here. She would still be there by his side. Not as she was now.

And his kids would still be here. He blamed himself for their death too.

If he had told their mother more often that he loved her dearly then perhaps they would have known that their life would be stable and he loved them too, and they wouldn't have wanted to run away from him. He blamed himself for losing everything, he had been such a fool, he had been such an idiot and now there was nothing that he could do to make everything better.

Sitting in this same room, it was only 8 hours ago that had been taken in for an emergency C-section. Things had gone so horribly wrong so very quickly.

He noticed a brush on the side and knowing protocol, knew what this was for. Picking it up with unsteady hands, he moved to the first cot. His son. And combed his hair with his own comb, as he would have done as his son was in his first performance. And he smiled sadly to himself thinking about how he would never tell his son how to style his hair for his first day at high school or would give him his own pot of hair gel for his son to style his hair in the way a girl would love as he prepared for his first date. Walking over to his daughter, he admired her curls from himself and her red hair from her mother. She was a splitting image of her mother. Pretty and cute; with a potential to be cheeky. He couldn't brush her curls, he wanted them intact; for they were adorably cute and he loved them very much. He simply thought about when he would never be able to tie up her hair for her first day of school, he would never tie her hair in pig tails for her and 'naw' at how adorable he found it. He would never have the argument with her when she wanted to die her red hair to something she would feel is more normal, and he would have to tell her how pretty and gorgeous her hair colour is and how she should treasure it. And he would never be able to freak when she started to straighten out her curls as she decided she didn't like them. And he missed these arguments he would never have.

Turning to their mother, he had left her till last. He brushed her hair softly, before placing it around her face. He moved it from her eyes as he always had done and stroked the side of her face. He missed how he would never convince her that her hair was gorgeous again. And he would never see her again with her hair expertly styled. He would never see her hair on their wedding day, and never watch her freak as her first grey hair appeared. And it made him smile. It made him smile with sadness at the fact he would never witness it but happiness at the way he thought she would react.

Sighing deeply he once again returned to the chair, sitting down and curling up once more into the protective ball he had seen her use so often used. It reminded him of her and drawing his knees close to his chest he knew that this was the final straw. Tears fell from his eyes down onto his cheeks and for once he was not ashamed of anyone saw him cry. It wouldn't matter anyway he wouldn't have to see whoever saw him, if anybody, many more times for he had decided.

He had to go.

He couldn't live this life on his own. He couldn't face the world alone. He lost his everything and couldn't face another day believing that he had killed them. This was what he deserved. This was all that he deserved. He owed it to the lives he had taken to end this. And he ended his was the only option he could see. He would no longer be on his own he could be with them and love and for eternity; but more importantly he could say to them and show them that he loves them forever. He had told her he would never ever leave. And this way he wouldn't.

Taking a pen and piece of paper from the corner of the room, he did what had to be done. Wanting to make sure people didn't believe he went mad when they heard what he had done he decided to write a final letter. An effort to explain he knows what he is doing, and believes this to be for the best. He wasn't sure where to start, or where to end, so he simply began and followed where the words would take him.

_To my friends at the hospital, to Mo,_

_I do not want you to follow me so when you read this I will be gone. I will be gone from this hospital and from this world but I need you to understand that this is my decision and it is for the best. I shall instead be in the valley or in the mountains. I could be a ray of light in the day or a star in the night sky. I could be wherever you look, wherever you wish, but ultimately I am with Jac and our babies and I will always be happy. I am not saying I am not happy with you all but Jac and my children are the most precious things; I cannot spend another hour being without them. And I do not wish to have to tell whoever may ask what to do to the machine which is keeping my love alive, as this is me giving up on her. So instead I give my written consent for you to carry out the actions necessary for her care and the decided course, but this way I am not saying I have given up on her, so deep inside it shall never be what I did. I could not you tell you yes or no on such a question. This may be the easy way out, but I would rather die a coward than live the rest of my life, every second of every minute, every minute of every hour, every hour of every day, alone. It is my fault they are gone and this is what I must do for them. I have to do this, I owe them so much. I have been a stupid fool, and I have always loved Jac dearly. But never admitting it has caused all this. So I have to admit it now. I love Jac Naylor and ultimately she loves me. I wish you all the best for everything. This is not a reflection on me feeling alone when I am with you; I just simply hold those who have been lost close to my heart. I love you all always. _

_Jonny_

Walking over to his children who lay side by side under a clean white cloth, Jonny kissed them both on the head, stroking where he had arranged their hair and whispered "I love you cherubs. I will see you soon and nothing will separate us ever again." He stood up and breathed deeply. He had one more thing to do.

Folding the letter he simply wrote a lyric from a song he had heard once, the line "Love is a doing word." He felt this is what he felt and what this meant to him. Slowing walking over to where Jac lie, he placed the letter in her hand on her chest, where it would be clearly visible. Kissing her lips he whispered in her ear. For the first and last time he spoke to her, since she had said to him 'this is it' with a beaming smile as they were placing her under anaesthetic. All those hours ago.

"This is the last time I kiss you in this world Jac. But I can do this forever in the place where I will meet you again. I love you for a lifetime and more. I love you for eternity, and now we can do that. See you soon sweetheart. I love you, don't you ever forget that."

He kissed her forehead once more, before standing up taking a deep breath and heading towards the door.

Opening it, he walked through the door for what he thought would be the last time. Slowly walking down the stairs, the weight of the world on his shoulders, he remembered a happy time between them, him and Jac, when she was feeling ill and he told her about his chicken soup, and his toast. And for him it was perfect. He carried on walking, down more and more steps, until he reached reception. Standing tall and broad he opened the door, and out he walked. Luckily for him it was quiet bar a few people he barely knew.

A siren was approaching in the distance. His heart was beating. He was confident in what he was doing was what he wanted.

He reached the doors to the outside of the hospital. Stepping outside, his heart was beating fast. The sirens were approaching. He was sure he would be with his family again. He, however, hadn't seen the way Jac's hand twitched as he turned after whispering in her ear.

He reached the edge of the road; the sirens were close to the entrance of the hospital.

There was a shout from behind him as he took a step forwards. The blue lights were visible now.

"Jonny! Wait! It's Jac! There might have been a mistake…"

Jonny turned fast on his heels to see his best friend in tears shouting at him.

He began to take a step forwards back towards the hospital, head bowed to the floor, as the headlights turned the sharp corner…

* * *

**So... How many deaths were there... I initially planned a number but that may have changed. Maybe not. **

**But its up to your imagination and people cant blame me for sensitive topics. Like my avoidance ;D **

**Thanks **

**Hayley x**


End file.
